Greetings. I am a voting constituent in rural west Texas.
Searching for some good news today. Ha. But the only news, that’s not really new or news, is the ever-constant whingeing from our President.
He’s the guy whose phone call you don’t answer at 3 a.m. because you know he’s gonna be drunk and rambling.
He’s the old uncle sitting in the corner at family reunions that everyone avoids because all he can talk about is how great things used to be.
He’s the boss who backs you into a corner in the break room and regales you with tales of his greatness. Punctuated with grievance fantasies. All while you hope a co-worker walks in to distract him.
But they are busy running the opposite direction.
Has Fox News stopped taking his on-air calls yet? Or maybe they’re letting them go to voice mail.
What a bore he is. He’s gone from cock o’ the walk to why don’t you love me like you used to do.
I’m pretty sure Mr. Trump’s safe space may soon come to resemble Howard Hughes’ in The Aviator, hopefully sans pee in jars.
The poor man is lost. Disfunctional. Spiraling down. He can’t control his world anymore. He’s never had to be responsible for, pay attention to, or care about anything. He’s used to barking and things get done.
Virus can’t be barked at. Distrust from we, the people he serves can’t be barked at. The epic failures he leaves in his wake can’t be barked at.
All he can do is make all of us miserable. And hug himself. In every picture, he’s hugging himself. Deflated. Judging from the 1000 mile stare he has these days, he could also use a nap. I’d feel sorry for him if he wasn’t responsible for it all. Sad indeed.
But he’s obviously unstable and incompetent. What’s your excuse?
